


Downfall Convalescence

by Eyl (Starstreak)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Arguments, Concerned!Sherlock, Emotional Recovery, Emotional Trauma, Flashbacks, Gen, Grudges, Hurt/Comfort, Issues, Nightmares, PTSD, Post-Reichenbach, Recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 20:16:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starstreak/pseuds/Eyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hand pressed more firmly against his shoulder, tugging him around to face the person.<br/>Grey eyes met his. "What's wrong?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Series of subsequent oneshots focusing on John's Post-Reichenbach recovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Downfall Convalescence

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a quick experiment using a slightly more-emotional version of John for a Post-Reichenbach recovery fanfic.  
> I might expand this into a series of oneshots.

_Falling._

_Black coat billowing out, arms spread out to the sides, curly hair flying behind him._

_Impact._

_A sickening crunch._

_Blood._

John's eyes snapped open, and he jerked forward, grabbing onto the door frame to keep himself from toppling over. He leaned heavily against it, his breathing fast and ragged, biting back a strangled cry before it could reach his lips.

"John?"

He flinched away from the voice, biting his tongue to keep from sobbing as the words changed and then echoed in his head.

_Goodbye, John._

His stomach churned with nausea, and he tightened his grip on the door to keep from falling.

_Falling._

"John..." Concern layered over the words now, and a hand tentatively touched his shoulder.

John swallowed before answering, taking a moment to gather his composure. When he did speak, his voice was harsh with feigned irritation. "What?"

In answer, the hand pressed more firmly against his shoulder, tugging him around to face the person.

Grey eyes met his. "What's wrong?"

_Glassy, unseening eyes staring up into a cloudy sky._

John roughly pulled his shoulder from the man's grip and stepped away. "Nothing. I'm fine."

The man's brow furrowed slightly, crinkling the skin on his forehead.

_Streaks of blood trailing down ivory skin, pooling on the pavement..._

A phone beeped, drawing the man's attention away from John. The man reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, rapidly pressing keys with long, slender fingers.

_Fingers lifeless and unmoving, skin still warm, a wrist without a heartbeat..._

John bit back a growl of frustration and blinked away the images, turning his attention to the flat, the wallpaper, the skull -- anything, anything else.

The man glanced up from his phone, looking uncharacteristically hesitant. "Lestrade has a case for us."

John turned away and started walking. "That's nice."

For a moment there was silence, and then footsteps followed him into the kitchen.

He stopped walking, annoyed. "Did you need something."

"I- John."

"What?"

For a few seconds there was no reply. When one finally came the words were quiet, uncertain. "....Will you come with me?"

_Will you do this for me?_

John gave the reply he should have given three years ago. "No."

He turned and left the flat.


End file.
